Leave the Door Open - A Tom Hiddleston as Loki One Shot
by sherekahnsgirl
Summary: Loki's lover, with whom he's in a D/s relationship already, professes to want to submit even further to him - to become his slave. She is very surprised - and completely embarrassed - about the direction in which that takes desire takes her, how his upped level of control over her manifests itself. Erotica, Smutty Smut Smut, Kinky, Master/Slave, Control, Sex, Tinkling, Embarrassm


NSFW!

Mature Audiences only!

 **WARNING!**

This story contains a kink that not everyone is going to like, but then I write purely for myself, and _I_ like it. And, since I'm going to warn you here what that is, I don't expect any shit from anyone about it, or I'm just gonna tell you to STFU.

It's also much harsher than what I usually write.

This (short) story involves a woman who volunteers to become Loki's slave, and what one of the first things he requires her to do in regards to her new station in life -that he knows is going to be very hard for her and is therefore a good test of her submission - is that he requires her to leave the bathroom door open while she's peeing.

It gets a very small bit more involved than that but not much.

Just something short that I thought of when I was closing the bathroom door myself . . .

Erotica, Smutty Smut Smut, Kinky, Master/Slave, Control, Sex, Tinkling, Embarrassment

"Leave the door open," he said casually as I headed for the bathroom that was just off our bedroom, where he lay, naked, on his side, supporting his head on his palm, arm bent so that he could watch me walk there.

I turned, mid-stride, to look back at him, wanting to believe he'd said something other than what I thought I'd heard.

"Do what now?"

One dark eyebrow rose. He _knew_ I was just stalling. "You heard me correctly. Leave the door open. Wide open. So I can see you."

If I did as he asked, he wouldn't just see me, he'd _see_ me! The way our bathroom was configured, I'd be _facing him_ while sitting on the toilet. I was well past the age when I should be blushing at much of anything, and yet, there it was, making me feel like I was going to pass out just at the thought of it. "But why?"

Both eyebrows rose at that, and there was no mistaking the censure in his carefully selected words as Loki sat up, his eyes never leaving mine. "I am not aware of any requirement that a Master should feel obligated to explain himself to his slave."

Oh, that.

And I'd agreed to that - like the idiot that I am - because . . . why?

Because the man - the God - made me unimaginably horny.

 _Infinitely_ horny.

Impossible-to-sate-for-more-than-five-seconds-at-a-time horny.

Verbally-agreeing-and-even-suggesting-that-I-would-submit-to-him-as-his-slave horny - which had only made me just that much hornier, of course.

"However," he continued, "I am feeling generous and I shall nonetheless answer your query: because that is what I desire."

"But -"

Damn I wish he would stay in one place! The closer he got to actually getting off the bed, the more I feared for the condition of my rear end, and now he was sitting up on the side of it, his feet on the floor - while mine dangled there when I sat in that position like a little girl's because of the extreme height of the bed - looking as if he was anticipating needing to come correct me shortly, and I knew that didn't bode at all well for various parts of me that had already begun to tingle in dreadful anticipation.

"A slave may have no expectation of privacy except that which is granted to her by her Master."

I opened my mouth at that but wisely refrained from saying any of the thousand things that passed through my stunned mind. All I could do was stand there, biting my lip, staring at him while he stared boldly back at me.

I did _not_ want to pee in front of him. Hell, I could barely manage to do it while he was in the bedroom at all, much less with his eyes all over me as I knew they'd be if I obeyed him.

But I really _had_ to go. I was already unconsciously crossing and uncrossing my legs as I stood there, clenching them together against a need that was rapidly becoming greater than the one I constantly felt for him.

I didn't want to explore the thought that burst into my head that those two urgent needs might actually be _mingling_ , somehow.

And he just sat there, a huge self-satisfied grin that promised no mercy at all slashing across his face. "I would suggest you go now while I still _allow_ you to."

" _A-Allow_ m-me?" I whispered pitifully. Had he really just _said_ that?

He nodded slowly, eyes still locked on mine, chin inclined towards his chest so that he looked at me from beneath his drawn brow, that truly dark, undeniably dangerous expression making my breath catch in my throat. _"Now_!" he yelled sharply and I quickly skittered the rest of the way to the commode.

I was already naked - by his command - and that was somehow worse than if I'd had to hike up a nightshirt or pull down pajama bottoms. All there was for me to do was to obey him, sit down on the toilet, and do what I already badly needed to do.

I got the first part done without too much of a problem, but how could he possibly expect me to do something so personal, so private, while he was staring right _at_ me?

I knew it was ridiculous for me to show any hesitation at all - I mean, we'd been lovers for going on eight months now. There wasn't an inch of my flesh that he hadn't memorized every intimate detail of, and the same was true for me about him. I was no untried virgin given to schoolgirl blushes.

But no one had ever asked this of me - not even the men who had dommed me in the past.

He'd assured me when we'd first gotten together that he wasn't into the things I wasn't, that bodily fluids - beyond those normally found during sex - weren't enticing to him in the least.

But control _was_.

And he knew it was to me, too.

Infinitely so.

Hell, I was the one who had suggested that we take what had rapidly become a Dom/sub relationship very early on to another level a few days ago, suggesting that I become his slave. He had nodded slowly, but there had been the hint of a smile around his lips as he'd done so, and he'd confessed that he thought it would be a considerable challenge for me to do so - that he thought I would rebel rather than submit, but that he'd thoroughly enjoy taming me to his hand.

His smile vanishing as if it had never been, he used his size and weight against me to flip me onto my back and force my legs apart, wrapping his long fingers around my throat, while he drove himself into me with no preamble whatsoever. "You agree to this voluntarily, do you? Of your own, free will - which I will expect you to surrender completely to me if I accept your little offer? I do not think you truly understand what you are saying. You realize that I will use you as I desire, that your own pleasure would be _far_ from guaranteed, and that I will beat you if you displease or disobey me - or merely for my own enjoyment?"

He had caught me unaware - physically and intellectually - and I hesitated in answering him as he slammed into me, pinning my legs even further back, surging much deeper into me with each powerful plunge.

"That I will touch you intimately, take you with my mouth or my hands or my cock at _any_ time, and in _any_ way I want - in private, public, in front of my friends, in front of _your_ friends, or in the middle of Times Square, if that is what would please me at the moment?"

Dear God, I didn't want to admit to myself - much less to him - that everything he was saying was just getting me hotter.

But he could tell. I could see that knowing look in his eye, I knew that he was experiencing just how slick I was becoming around his imposing presence. "Your body consents for you, does it not? But I would have the words from your lips. Ask me, girl, in your most humble voice, 'Sir, please accept me as your slave', and perhaps I shall do you that honor, although I doubt you will think of it as much of one for very long."

Despite how much I wanted him, wanted exactly what he was describing, I couldn't seem to get my mouth to work.

As he labored over me, his hand clenching even more tightly around my throat, holding me in place for his bone jarring thrusts, he breathed, "Your silence speaks volumes, little girl. Perhaps you are not quite ready as of yet, although I shall graciously grant you a small taste of how you can expect to be treated should you decide it is truly what you want from me." That horrifyingly - yet damnably arousing - evil grin was back as he added, "Think on this and be certain of that which you ask of me: I can be an exacting, ingenious and cruel Master. I can promise you that your life as my slave would _not_ be an easy one."

I thought he had fucked me hard in the past, but that was nothing in comparison to this. He was hammering himself into me, withdrawing completely then snapping his hips forward to stab into me punishingly, each time.

I was, of course, shamefully close.

And he noticed.

" _No_!" He didn't stop fucking me, but used his grip on my neck to forcibly turn my head, whispering into my exposed ear as he continued to take me with brutal force, "If you cum without my permission I _will_ stripe your backside from the beginning swells of those beautiful cheeks of yours and even down the full length of the backs of your thighs, and I can promise you that sitting will become a distant memory before you will care to consider it again."

He took his pleasure of me, arching and bucking and invading me relentlessly in pursuit of his own goal, then, when he was done, breathing heavily and groaning, his face a rictus of pleasure, he rolled off me, leaving me lying there, wanting, aching for a release I knew I wasn't going to get. Granted, not the first time he'd ever done that, and definitely not the last, judging by his actions.

"Get me something to drink," he had ordered, panting.

No "please" and no "thank you" when I brought him a bottle of water. It had taken me a long time to get him to observe the barest of social pleasantries and he had jettisoned them in a matter of minutes.

But then, as he'd often crowed to me, a God need not observe such niceties.

If I agreed to this, he was rapidly going to become even more impossible to live with than he already was.

And this incident with the bathroom was only proving my hunch right, especially since I had whispered those words - the ones he had told me to say when I thought I was truly ready - only moments ago, just as he'd reached for me.

My body didn't give a flying fuck about how thoroughly embarrassed I was and gave me no choice but to do what I needed to, while I thought I was going to fall off the toilet in a faint from the deep mortification I felt, and closing my eyes only helped a very little.

But at least it was some form of escape from the truly horrible - and horribly arousing - feelings of complete embarrassment and humiliation I was suffering.

"I gave you no permission to close your eyes, slave. Open them _immediately_ and keep them on me, your Lord and Master."

I was smart enough not to pretend I didn't know what he meant, and when I did as I was told, I realized that he had moved - completely silently - and was standing almost directly in front of me, which forced me to crane my head back in order to meet those brilliant eyes of his. The shock and mortification of him being so overpoweringly close to me while I was peeing startled me into stopping it in a manner that was atrociously painful.

He reached out and hand and tilted my head up even further, his fingers curling around my chin. "You were not told to stop."

I couldn't suppress the whimper of shame that escaped my lips as my entire body clenched humiliatingly at his actions.

At how thoroughly I was already allowing myself to be controlled.

Luckily - luckily? - my body was only too happy to do what it desperately needed to, to my complete and utter mortification.

And he stayed there, through the entire rest of the process, holding my chin up and forcing me to look at him a small smile playing about his lips and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was enjoying himself enormously as my cheeks grew hotter and hotter under that smug, self-satisfied gaze.

Finally I was finished.

He took a step back, allowing me to stand up and step around him, yelping when his hand cracked down hard enough on my bare bottom to goose me forward several steps.

As he turned to follow me, I heard him growl, "Get on the bed, on your hands and knees, head down, butt up, and you might want to find yourself a pillow to muffle your cries. I have no interest in trying to explain to your police that I am merely training my slave."

What the fuck had I gotten myself into?


End file.
